The Dial
by sketchnurse
Summary: "You called me last night." Castle said, stepping into her apartment. "Very interesting conversation we had, too." Two plot cliches or three! in one! Caskett fun! T for language.


**Yup, a lovely fluffy Castle fic to start me off as an active member of the fandom. Enjoy! **

It's not like she does this all the time; in fact, this is the first time she's done this in a very, very long time. Not very likely to find Kate Beckett in a bar, several sweet, fruity, and alcohol-filled drinks beside her. Even less likely to find her laughing over-indulgently at something Lanie said about Castle. A comment about his immaturity, naturally, 'cause that's really what you do, to make fun of Richard Castle, the playboy bestselling author, womanizer, Mr. Charming. Not like Beckett hasn't heard it before, laughed at it before, agreed with the part of herself that was convinced he was bad news before, but this time she was obviously inebriated, and her friend commented with a smooth raise of the eyebrow. Really, Beckett, are you seriously trying to fool us? The ME had followed along with the 'We hate men' routine for the first little bit, but it was starting to wear thin with every glass. She certainly wasn't drinking as much as the detective; then again, she hadn't just gotten her heart broken.

"Uh, maybe we should slow down on the Margaritas." she says, taking the drink out of the other woman's hands with an air of resignment. "Look, I know drinking fruity girly things and complaining about men is all part of the break-up process," She holds up a hand at the start of Beckett's protests. "Yeah, yeah, I know, nothing was going on between the two of you, but don't think I don't recognize the signs of major heartbreak when I see them. You, girl, are a classic woman who just lost her chance."

"You know what, if Castle's so friendly with his ex-wives, then he isn't the—"

"Mmm-hmm." Lanie cuts her off, with one of _those _looks. "Save it for Ryan and Esposito. I know exactly what's going on in that pretty head of yours. But he said he was coming back in the fall, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Uh-huh, and even if _you_ haven't figured out exactly what he feels about you, the rest of us sure have, so I don't think you're going to have to worry about _Gina_."

"Did you see him walk off with her? _God_, that had to be the _biggest_ grin—"

"Kate, don't interrupt when I'm explaining the obvious. Look, three points. Numero Uno: He's been following you around for over a year and a half. Following. You. _You. _Not Ryan and Esposito, though I'm sure they're a _lovely_ side effect, and certainly not me, unfortunately. You do realize that he has enough research for like, a million books by now, right?"

"I heard from Esposito."

"Oh? So that's what prompted you to let go of Demming and start looking for a little Writer Boy love? Esposito decide your eyes need a little bit of opening?" No response. Well, one couldn't blame the woman. "Look, he obviously cared a hell of a lot about you, alright? And don't go all 'we're just friends' on me. The things he did for you, helping you with your mother's _murder_ case? Those are the gestures of a man infatuated, and infatuated bad."

"I know." Lanie sensed there were still some doubts living in her friend's mind. Kate Beckett was a woman whose trust was hard won, and though Castle seemed to have gotten in pretty far, leaving for the summer with his ex-wife didn't seem like the thing to keep him in Beckett's good books.

"Okay, you get that the guy wanted to take you to bed pretty bad. That's normal; you're hot. Let's look at reason number two, then. I know your eyes have been on crime, but surely you noticed how jealous he was when you were with Demming. Major testosterone contest. That man is so damn protective of you! And he let you stay at his place when yours blew up! No one who wants a quick fuck does that for someone. Face it, Kate; he's in for the long haul."

"Might have been." Beckett mumbled. "Not now."

"Oh, sure, _one_ summer. Look, I know you screwed it up pretty bad with the whole Demming fiasco, but a guy that cares about you that much isn't going to give up so easy. I mean, what about reason number three? He invited you to his vacation home in the Hamptons. That's pretty serious, and he knew you were involved with Demming. The man just wants to spend _time_ with you! What more reason could you need?" Her friend mumbled something unintelligible, and leaned over, reaching for her drink again.

"_No_." Lanie asserted. "We are going to _talk_ about this."

"I don't want to."

"Well, too damn bad!" There was a long pause.

"Why couldn't he have just, you know, made a proper move? I'm not exactly master of the subtle signals."

"Uh, maybe because he knew you would have dismissed him right away? I know you think he's completely unreliable and caustic and all that, but seriously? Not his fault."

Richard Castle was working, really. Just more on his tennis swing than his novel. But who could blame him? Gina had her nest of scary females of high importance over for a girl's night in at the house, and he knew that he wasn't exactly their favourite person right now. He hadn't exactly been that nice to his ex-wife over the past few weeks. A little snippy, actually. While they weren't _exactly_ fighting (he liked to think that they were sort-of friends now, actually) something told Castle that she wasn't terribly overjoyed that he had managed a grand total of two thousand words on the Nikki Heat book so far. So, there he was, Wii remote flinging out of his hand and onto the floor for the fifth time.

"Damn it!" he shouted, but no one heard him. Just as well. It was pretty lucky, actually, having a completely sound-proof entertainment room. Worth spending the money.

Wasn't his fault, anyway, that having the safety strap on made his wrist really itchy. He had sensitive skin. Besides, who heard of safety straps for video game controllers, anyway? It was stupid. Deadlines were stupid. The whole world was stupid. But especially Dectective Tom Freaking Demming.

Not that he wasn't happy for Kate, no, no, that would be _awful_. He happened to care a whole lot about her, and happiness was good enough, maybe. Just that he knows she would be waaaaaay happier with him. Whatever. She was with Demming, and he was here, playing Wii Sports like he wasn't a pathetic pile of heartbroken man.

He picked up the remote again, swinging as hard as he could. Of course, he ended up missing the virtual ball completely. Well, screw this. It was two o'clock, and he was going to bed. To get some rest, so he could start writing tomorrow, of course.

Castle walked over to the console and turned it off. And now the room was completely dark. He stood there for a couple seconds, trying to get used to the darkness. And then his long distance ring tone came on.

He slipped the phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Rick Castle." he answered, not bothering to look at the number.

"_Why couldn't he have just, you know, made a proper move?"_ He froze. Kate.

"Beckett?" he asked cautiously. She wasn't supposed to be calling him. Surely she was shacked up with Demming somewhere. Probably extended their weekend trip.

"_I'm not exactly master of the subtle signals." _

"Kate? Uh, are you sure you got the right number? It's Castle."

"_Uh, maybe because he knew you would have dismissed him right away? I know you think he's completely unreliable and caustic and all that, but seriously? Not his fault." _ He recognized the second voice as Lanie Parish's. This was starting to sound suspiciously like a…. what were they called? A butt-dial. He had read enough bad romance novels (he just found them in the bathroom, they were Martha's, he swore!) to know that he was supposed to keep listening, because the accidental caller was sure to spill some sort of juicy secret. He pressed his ear farther into the phone, just in case.

"_I know, I know it's not Castle's fault." _ They were talking about him? How lucky (and possibly scarring for life) was that?

"_Well, then what the hell are you blaming him for?"_

"_I'm not blaming him, I'm just—"_

"_Girl, if you're not blaming him, then what have you been doing for the past half hour?"_

"_Okay, fine, I was, but you're completely right. Totally, totally right." _Now this was getting interesting. If only he could figure out what the hell they were talking about.

"_So you admit that he's been following you around like a lost puppy because he's totally in love with you." _Oh. That.

"_You didn't say anything about that!"_

"_Oh, come on. Infatuated, totally in love, same thing." _Well, not really. Infatuation was more of a— Right. They were still talking.

"_Okay, yeah, fine. He's in love with me. Or something. Any suggestions on what I'm supposed to do about it, or are you just going to send mbe off to his summer home to find him in bed with the ex-wife?"_

"_Trust me, he's not sleeping with her."_

"_You didn't see him—"_

"_Honey, we talked about this already. No sex. Look, just, okay, well I don't really know what to do. Figure it out quick, though, because I want to see those little Castle babies your friend was gossiping about."_

"_You know I'm not so good in the personal department, Lanie. I mean, it took me this long to figure out that I'm—"_

"_Totally in love with him?" _

"_Okay, _fine_, I'm in love with Castle, happy?" _ One Richard Castle sure was. He hung up the phone, ran out of the room, and sped up to his bedroom, nearly knocking into the ladies standing by the steps. Gina rolled her eyes.

"Must have gotten some inspiration out of that video game." she remarked to her friends. "It's about damn time."

Kate Beckett woke with a start. Surprising, considering that she was completely comfortable, just the right temperature, and there was no pesky breeze or leaky roof to interrupt her slumber. Must have been that weird dream. What the hell had it been about? Something about an excessive amount of Margaritas, Wii Tennis, and… her ass pressing down on the #2 speed dial. She sunk back into the covers. Well, dream Kate had admitted to dream Lanie and unwittingly dream Castle that she was in love with him. Exciting stuff, really.

She got up reluctantly, opened her curtains, and made a beeline for the medicine cabinet. Her head was _killing_ her, and her neck was in at least a thousand different knots. Opening the bottle of aspirin, she looked around the kitchen. Last night's spaghetti mess was still strewn around the counter. That was weird. She usually cleaned up, on the rare occasion she cooked a meal at home.

After showering, getting dressed, and doing the usual girly things before work, Beckett slumped down on the couch and sipped her coffee. The sun had woken her up a half-hour early, so she had a bit of down-time before work. Just as well, because her head felt thick and fuzzy. Not exactly conducive to a healthy homicide investigation. Not exactly conducive to a healthy anything.

A knock at her door startled her out of her happy struggle to figure out the mystery of the unclean dishes. Whoever it was better have something important.

She looked through the peephole, and the surprise of the person on the other side of the door nearly shook her out of her headache. Almost, because the person on the other side was a headache in and of himself.

Opening the door, she put her hands on her hips, in her best Kate-Beckett-isn't-entirely-amused-at-this-interruption fashion.

"Castle." she stated, pretending to be annoyed rather than shocked.

"Kate." he replied, seeming quite out of breath. Okay, weird. "I came as soon as— I, um, huh." Real eloquent.

"What are you doing here?" He took a breath, before grinning at her.

"You called me last night." Castle said, stepping into her apartment. "Very interesting conversation we had, too." No, no way…

"So, in love with me? I'd have to say I'm quite flattered." Oh, shit. The dream. The headache. It all came flooding back to her in a blush-inducing mess.

"I, um…"

"Don't worry, Kate. I won't tease you too much. You have good taste."

"Castle…" she groaned. Great.

"Seriously." And then he did get serious. He put his hands on her shoulders, and tried to make eye contact. Which sort-of failed at first.

"Kate, how am I supposed to give you the big romantic speech I made up on the drive over if you won't look at me?" Beckett finally turned her head towards him.

"Woah, someone looks like she had a late night." She glowered at him. "Right, right. Okay, so—"

"Castle, can we please not talk right now? Kind of in hangover mode right now."

"What do you want to do, then?" he asked her, a big suggestive smile on his face. And she took the bait.

"Would you object to making out on my couch?"


End file.
